On Your Mind
by Red Leather White Silk
Summary: When hatred turns to friendship, it leaves a lot of questions unanswered. But what happens when friendship turns to more...?
1. Chapter One

**_Disclaimer: We own none of the characters in this fic. The rather wonderful ladies belong to Terry Goodkind and ABC. _**

**_This is the first fanfiction collaboration written by me (Red) and White Silk (also know as White.) We hope you enjoy it ^_^_**

**Chapter One**

After so many months of travelling with the same small group, it was unsettling to be almost alone for once. Kahlan often found herself turning to smile at Richard, or to offer Zedd a few of the berries she had picked the last time they stopped for a rest. Her smile quickly faded and her words cut off every time she turned around, expecting to see caring brown eyes and a warm smile, or to hear the wizard accept her offer of food before she had even finished saying it, only to be greeted by the sight of her own footprints and a pair of scowling green eyes.

The night before, Richard had informed them that the compass was pointing south-east, across the border and into D'Haran forests. He had also pointed out that the group was running low on provisions: Zedd claimed to have no idea where all the dried meat kept disappearing to, suggesting that maybe it was a particularly brave chipmunk raiding the group's supplies. Richard had conceded the point with a chuckle, saying that they still needed to restock before continuing. However, according to Cara, the part of D'Hara they would be entering was uninhabited; there were no settlements for many miles on the D'Haran side. Crossing the border itself was also a problem: the Midland-D'Hara border to the South was well-known for its high gar population. If they were to resupply, they would have to visit a Midlands town before crossing over.

After many hours of debating the wisest course of action, it was decided that two of them should go on into D'Hara, whilst the other two would head to the nearest town, Arcaston, and buy the necessary provisions before meeting up again in the D'Haran hinterlands. The question was who should go across the boundary first?

'Well, I need to, as the compass will only work for me.' Richard stated, patting the pocket it sat in. 'Kahlan, you know the town, so maybe you should go there.' Kahlan nodded, running the various trails and roads through her mind, trying to think of the shortest route there. There was a brief discussion on who should accompany Kahlan, with Richard finally deciding that Cara would be the best option: she knew the D'Haran landscape better than Zedd, so she would be able to find her way around better. They decided that the four would meet up at an old abandoned healer's outpost Cara had visited before, in the southeast of the country. After a rushed goodbye, with Richard promising he'd see her again soon (and Cara rolling her eyes in the background), they went their separate ways.

Now, as they walked along the well-trodden trail, Kahlan decided that being without the men for while wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing. She had found that spending time with Cara, whilst topics were relatively thin on the ground, was rather entertaining: the blonde's dry, sarcastic humour made Kahlan laugh a lot more that it used to, and she was fairly certain she'd managed to make the Blonde smile more than once; every time she mentioned this, Cara would insist the brunette was seeing things and would work hard to maintain a neutral face for the next few hours. Making Cara smile had become a source of pride for Kahlan and she strived to do it as often as possible. Once, she had even heard the blonde laugh, though it was cut off rather suddenly, but Kahlan couldn't stop grinning for the rest of the evening.

She'd noticed more and more that Cara seemed to be relaxing around her new companions. She was more likely to stay around the campfire instead of walking off to 'patrol the area.' Sometimes, she even joined in with the camp banter, throwing in occasional comments and observations. Kahlan had joked that Cara was in danger of become chatty, receiving only a grunt in return.  
There was still a long way to go, but the woman finally seemed to be starting along the route to becoming the woman her training had hidden away for so long. She felt an odd sense of achievement and pride in her part of helping Cara adjust to a normal life – well, more normal than before at least. Questing across the Territories, trying to find a mythical stone to lock the Keeper of the Underworld away in his fiery green chasm wasn't the most normal of ways to spend your time. She often wondered if Cara felt any pride in their quest and if she knew that she was much more than a weapon to them. So much more. She had become a central part of their group: a talented fighter, a knowledgeable strategist and, to Kahlan, a trusted friend.

Kahlan was rather happy to be alone with the blonde; she found Cara more likely to respond amicably when they were away from the men; she guessed it was because, like Kahlan, Cara's childhood was spent mostly in female company. They both grew up with only the companionship of their fellow sisters. Kahlan remembered with a slight blush a few small comments Cara had made that left no doubt in her mind just how close the Mord'Sith were. She was both intrigued by the special bond the Mord'Sith shared and flustered by the mental images her mind managed to conjure. She remembered her own experience in the 'skin' of a Mord'Sith and wondered dimly how much easier it would be to remove with an extra pair of hands. A more furious blush heated up her cheeks this time and she tried to force the thoughts out her mind.

The sound of someone saying her name brought her out of her unusual thoughts and she looked up (she hadn't actually noticed her gaze dropping to the floor in the first place) to find Cara standing in front of her, looking bemused. They had stopped at a split in the trail and Cara had looked to her for direction. She gestured to the left fork, murmuring her apologies. She tilted her head slightly when Cara stepped towards her instead of walking on.

The blonde tugged off one of her gloves and pressed the backs of two fingers to Kahlan's forehead.  
'You're all red.' She pressed the fingers a little harder, frowning slightly. 'No obvious temperature.' Kahlan lifted a hand to bat away Cara's fingers, working hard to steady her expression.  
'I'm fine. Just a little warm, that's all.' The blonde's eyes flicked to the scenery, taking in the frost clinging tenaciously to every surface it could and exhaled a long stream of vaporous breath before raising an eyebrow and retaking the brunette's gaze.  
'Right. Warm.' Cara frowned again, poking her fingers back into the leather of her glove. Kahlan pulled her hair over her shoulder, forcing the colour from her cheeks.  
'Shall we continue?' She said brusquely, moving past Cara to stride off down the path.

Soon, the sun began to set, their lengthening shadows marking its slow surrender to the rising moon. The clouds had all but dissipated, leaving the moon's silvery light to filter into the darkening wood, lending it an ethereal feel and a serene, haunting beauty. Walking silently along the forest trail, a mile or so away from the town, Kahlan was pointedly keeping her thoughts away from Cara. She allowed her mind to wander, thinking of the trail they were on and how it linked up to a well-travelled road, at least three or four miles to the west; the road to Aydindril, her home. She smiled wistfully as she thought of the bustling city and of the purer-than-snow walls of the Confessor's palace. She also thought of the People's palace, in D'Hara, where Cara would have lived. She had read about its soaring walls that rose to dizzying heights, the mass of people that seemed to stream in and out of its colossal gates out onto the surrounding plains. Apparently, it was a building of unparalleled splendour and grace, one she wished greatly to see. Maybe one day they would visit, the four of them. She supposed that Richard would have to and that Cara would probably follow him. She also remembered her promise to return to Aydindril as soon as possible and Zedd would undoubtedly follow. It seemed that as soon as their quest would be over and the four of them would have to go their separate ways. It would likely take at least a year to reorder the Midlands and consolidate the rule of D'Hara. A year without Richard and Cara. She didn't like the sound of that.

She was brought out of her troubling thoughts by the sound of movement behind her. She heard an agiel being unsheathed and felt a hand grab the hood on the back of her dress, yanking her backwards roughly. She stumbled, only just keeping her feet, watching a pair of blood-red boots stride ahead of her. She unsheathed her daggers, scrambling to find her balance as people began to appear. The rotted patches and occasional lack of skin marring the yellowed sea of faces left no doubt as to what they were facing: Banelings.

There had to be at least fifteen of them, yelling and screaming unintelligibly, running towards them with various rusted weapons raised over their heads. Cara took down two quickly and efficiently, with a single touch of an agiel before looking over her shoulder to check on the brunette. Kahlan ignored the glance in her direction and cut down two of her own. She straightened up and nodded her appreciation to Cara, who was still looking at her worriedly. She threw a dagger at Cara, which the blonde instinctively dodged, letting it thud into the enemy which had sneaking up behind her. She let out a small laugh of appreciation for the shot before running to meet another pair of their attackers. Sprinting to retrieve the knife, she found it embedded deep in the forehead of a rotted middle-aged man. She looked away, shuddering at the sucking sound it made as it came free. She heard a low grunt close to her, looking up to see Cara standing over her, fighting two of the banelings. Standing up once more, Kahlan cut the throat of one and the scream of an agiel told her that Cara caught another. A thickset man wielding a large axe let out a yell, charging towards them, swinging wildly. As she jumped forward, Kahlan noticed a blur of red leather mirror her actions. She drove a dagger into the man's chest, feeling it collide with bone and tear through muscle and saw an agiel press against the centre beside her hand. She wasn't sure which one of them it was, but the man dropped to the floor heavily, his axe embedding itself in the dirt. Instantly, Kahlan jumped back, taking down another before whipping around in the other direction, dagger held out, sending a small splash of blood into her next attacker's eyes, blinding him momentarily as she darted forward, finishing him quickly. Kahlan caught sight of a man behind Cara, but she was too far away: she'd never be able reach them in time. She cried out in warning as the man brought his sword down, intending to cleave Cara in two.

It seemed almost effortless on Cara's behalf: she reached up a hand, grasping the man's thick wrist before pulling it down, flipping him over her shoulder. He hit the ground with a loud thump, impaling himself on his own snapped sword blade. He squealed in surprised pain, clawing at the shattered metal, slicing his fingers. Kahlan sprinted forward to finish him with a dagger through his heart, ending his wild thrashing. Cara charged off, killing two more while Kahlan dealt with one that attempted to surprise her. The last baneling, a thin female, stood still, a short sword gripped tightly in her fist.

Kahlan gritted her teeth and lunged forward, dagger raised.  
"Wait!" A high-pitched voice screamed and the baneling fell to her knees, dropping the sword to the side as she held up her hands in a supplication for mercy. Her brown eyes swam with tears as she looked up at Kahlan, her bottom lip quivering. Kahlan's resolve faltered. The girl couldn't be any older than 15. She turned to look at Cara, who was approaching with her weapons still drawn, eyeing the last baneling with suspicion and anger. She then saw Cara's eyes widen in surprise and fear, her step quickening, causing Kahlan to turn her head so quickly she felt muscles strain. The girl had pulled a small knife from her belt and began to drive it towards Kahlan with a look of triumph in her eyes.

She felt a sharp, searing pain as the knife sliced through her skin, but she was just far away enough for it to be relatively shallow. She gritted her teeth, letting out a low grunt of pain. Her grip on her daggers tightened and she began to spin on her heel, bringing the blade through the air so fast it whistled. She felt the resistance as it collided with the girl's neck, cutting through flesh and muscle and tendon, before coming out of the other side, splattering a spray of blood across Kahlan's face. The girl's hand half rose to touch the wound as her legs collapsed beneath her, dropping her to the floor.  
Kahlan stood for a while, ignoring the bitter taste of blood on her tongue, feeling the slow ebb of her adrenaline. It began to fade as her breathing settled, bringing the pain of her strained neck muscles, aching limbs and finally the sharp pain of the cut. She groaned again, dropping the daggers to the floor, raising her hand to the wound. Blood oozed over the split in the leather of her corset, soaking into her dress. Cara stepped forward, pressing her hands to either side of the wound, pulling the leather apart gently, eliciting a hiss from Kahlan. She muttered a hurried apology before tearing a strip off of a vanquished baneling's shirt and pressing it against the wound, telling Kahlan to hold it tight against the cut, in order to stem the blood flow.

'We need to leave this place before...' Kahlan gestured weakly with her free hand to the banelings lying around them. Cara nodded and shouldered both of their packs, ignoring the brunette's protests. She wiped the mud and gore off of Kahlan's daggers before tucking them back into her long leather boots then with a small glance to Kahlan's waiting eyes, started off down the path again, agiel grasped firmly in hand.

* * *

- Cara's POV-

"Ridiculous people." She muttered under her breath as another villager hurried to get out of their way. Fear was a reaction she had become used to whenever she encountered people but right now it wasn't exactly going to help get the Confessor's injury seen to.  
"We'll have to go to the inn; I don't think anyone will be exactly happy to help us." Kahlan spoke objectively with a glance at her leather and Cara nodded, if they were to go to the healer now, as Confessor and Mord'Sith, she was almost certain they would find them 'otherwise engaged'; she really hoped this would not mean she had to wear a dress again. The late hour and the name of Mother Confessor was enough to provide them with a room for the night but Cara noted the reluctance in the man's voice as he admitted they had a room available. He apologised for the small room in a quiet voice, saying if he had known the Mother Confessor would be visiting he would have reserved the largest. Kahlan, ever the people person, smiled and told him whatever he had would be fine but he didn't seem to relax: Cara would have to be blind and stupid not to notice the way he glanced at her every few seconds. With an approving smile she judged the room to be at least satisfactory, a small window gave them a good view out into the street, a comfort as far as defence went, and the bed was certainly big enough for the pair of them. Her thoughts strayed to the possibilities brought up by sharing a bed with the Confessor but she forced them away, as much as she may want otherwise, Kahlan thought of her as a friend and nothing more. The woman herself interrupted her thoughts by entering behind her and dropping some clothes onto the small table by the window.  
"The Innkeeper was more than happy to provide us with these; it might help to tone down the villager's reactions if you weren't in uniform." The brunette looked a little apologetic but Cara responded with a simple nod. At least it wasn't a dress.  
"I suppose it's practical. But first you need to wash up; I doubt the baneling's blade was clean." She indicated to Kahlan's injury that had stopped bleeding on the way here but still seemed more than a scratch. The baneling had been mildly intelligent, regardless of the futility she could respect the use of tactics; taking advantage of the Mother Confessors well known mercy was a good move to make. The depth of the scratch also showed that the girl must have had a little strength behind her swing, if no skill; **she** would have aimed for kidneys if presented with her opponents back in such a way but she supposed she should be glad of the girl's inexperience.

Kahlan dragged her from her thoughts with a small grunt of pain as she attempted to unlace her corset. With a roll of her eyes Cara stepped forward, all but slapping the woman's hands out of the way and replacing them with her own, careful to keep her eyes on the ties and not the things contained within. This was a little more than futile given that the more Cara undid the more of the Confessor was on show; she noted the brunette stayed completely still as she worked but guessed it was due to the discomfort of her injury. When she was done she moved her hand up to pull the lace off fully, the back of her gloved brushing across the bare skin of the confessor's chest accidently. Instantly she moved away but the warmth of Kahlan still reached her hand even through the leather. With a small nod to the Confessor she turned her back to give her privacy and rubbed the back of her hand, forcing the feeling away with a slight frown; why was the woman so warm?  
"Cara, would you mind ..." Kahlan's voice trailed off and Cara spun to face her, raising her eyebrow slightly in a questioning gesture.  
"Um... I can't really reach my back..." The brunette was holding her corset together over herself as she spoke and Cara gave a simple nod.  
"I'll go get water." She turned and left without looking back: they couldn't clean an injury without clean water.

After asking a very flustered, stuttering woman at the bar for a bowl of water and a clean cloth, she found Kahlan lying face down on the bed. _Creator, have mercy_. She forced back a sigh as her eyes wandered over the pale white skin of the Confessor.  
"I guessed this would be easier..." The woman sounded unsure as she glanced over her shoulder at her and Cara gave a nonchalant shrug in return.  
"It's fine." She walked forward and set the bowl down next to the Confessor, climbing onto the bed and placing a leg on either side of the brunette's hips, being careful to keep her weight off of the woman below her. With great care she started to clean the streaks of blood marking the Confessors skin, noting a few paler lines here and there that she quickly recognised as scars. Of course, the Confessor had been in many battles, so a few scars was expected, though the woman didn't have nearly as many as Cara had herself, nor were they as obvious. Then again, her skin was a little darker than that of the snow-white woman beneath her, making the pale lines stand out in contrast. Her thoughts were again interrupted as she noticed the tension forming in the Confessor's muscles. With a small frown she paused in cleaning the blood and set the cloth down, bringing her hands to her mouth one at a time and biting off her gloves. Maybe she wouldn't hurt her so much this way... As she went back to cleaning and set her hand on the woman's skin she felt her flinch and cursed her own strength. There was going to be no way to do this without hurting the Confessor a little but she felt a surprising urge to make it as painless as possible; a very strange impulse for a Mord'Sith.

After some time of working on the cut, and despite being as careful as **anyone **could be, the Confessor's shoulders still did not relax and she gave an exasperated sigh.  
"I can't be any gentler." She muttered in annoyance, almost to herself but Kahlan answered anyway.  
"I know; that's the problem." Her quiet tone suggested that the brunette was talking mostly to herself but there was an odd edge to her voice that seemed to have nothing to do with pain. A small smirk spread across her face as it dawned on her that the Confessor may be uncomfortable but it may not have all that much to do with her injury. A mischievous plan formed in her mind as she brushed the cloth lightly over the wound. She really shouldn't tease the Confessor in such a way but if she couldn't have her to herself, she could at least allow herself a little amusement in this. Going back to cleaning, she kept her touch as light as before but allowed a free hand to slide gently over the Confessor's uninjured skin, small circles of her thumb at first but changing to working out the tension that was ever increasing in the brunettes shoulders. By the time the blood was all cleaned away the Confessor was far more relaxed, the muscles of her back almost liquid under her fingers.  
"There. All clean." She smirked as she got up and heard Kahlan give a noise of confusion; clearly the woman had forgotten exactly what Cara had been doing in the first place.  
"Something on your mind Confessor?" She tilted her head with a teasing smirk as Kahlan's cheeks turned a delicious shade of pink.  
"Nothing. Thank you. For your help." She spoke hurriedly and Cara let her smirk grow into a lazy grin.  
"**Anytime **." She ran her finger up the centre of the Confessors back as she turned away, watching with a satisfied smirk as all of her work relaxing the woman vanished in an instant before moving across the room to close the curtains of the small window and starting to get changed. She left Kahlan to compose herself now that she'd had her fun, and what fun it had been.

As she finished lacing up the dark brown trousers the innkeeper had provided a soft touch on her back made her freeze. She hadn't even heard Kahlan approach and now her hands were tracing lightly over areas Cara knew were marked with scars. After a moment of dead silence, Kahlan spoke softly,  
"You've been hurt a lot." It was merely an observation but the quiet voice of the Confessor almost sent a shiver down her spine.  
"Injuries are nothing to a Mord'Sith." She gave the reflexive answer instantly, forcing back any emotion from her voice as she straightened up slightly. Mord'Sith were proud of their scars, they made them who they were, but with Kahlan's fingertips tracing over each one in turn she was starting to curse the Keeper that she had any at all.  
"Something on your mind Cara?" She heard the amusement in the other woman's voice and cursed herself silently, attempting to force away the feel of the brunettes gentle and soft hands against her skin while she thought of a plan. Heavily distracted or not, one came to her and she grinned, turning and catching Kahlan's hands, making no attempt to cover herself. As expected the lily-white skin of the Confessor's face flushed a deep crimson at the sight of her bare chest and Cara allowed a triumphant smirk to come onto her face. The Confessor was playing with fire; if she expected Cara to turn into a simpering mess with a few touches on her back, the woman had a thing or two to learn about Mord'Sith.  
"Not at all, Kahlan." She let her smirk grow slightly as she watched the other woman's eyes flicker down for the briefest of moments before returning to her eyes. After only a second they flickered down again to her chest, and a few more times after that before Kahlan's hands pulled free of her grip and moved down. Cara didn't realise she was holding her breath until her lungs started screaming for attention and she carefully exhaled, not letting her need for oxygen show as she tried to regulate her breathing. Her own eyes locked onto Kahlan's hand as it moved forward, making her flinch as it came to rest on one of her fresher scars, the skin still raised slightly over the crescent shape just at the base of her ribs. Her eyes threatened to drop closed as she felt the soft brush of the other woman's fingers move across her scar and come to a stop on the side of her ribs, followed by a thumb that traced lightly back and forth across the raised skin. Kahlan eyes moved back up to meet hers once more and Cara felt as though she was falling into them, something dragging her forward toward the brunette as the thumb continued moving in an oddly comforting and almost hypnotising way.

With a sharp shake of her head Cara stepped back, grabbing the shirt from behind her and turning away to pull it on.  
"I'm going to get some food." She started toward the door, still buttoning the shirt, refusing to look at the brunette. That had been close, **too close**. She shut the door behind her and leant against it, making sure the shirt was closed enough to cover herself before letting her head drop back against the wood and her eyes close. Another minute and she may have done something she'd regret, what was she thinking teasing the Confessor like that?! More to the point, what was the Confessor doing?! Touching her in such a way and standing so close. At first it had been payback, a game, simply something to amuse themselves with but what was all the staring? Something in Kahlan's eyes was odd, something she wasn't familiar with. Not wanting to delve too deeply into that she gave a small sigh and straightened up, pushing the thoughts away. She'd started it so any response by the Confessor was probably just to pay her back. Maybe she'd given too much away in that last few minutes but when she returned with supper they wouldn't speak of it at all. With that decided in her mind she strode off downstairs, it was late but she recalled the barmaid telling the brunette that they always had food stocked so there would be no trouble there. Unlike everything else that was going on tonight.

* * *

- Kahlan's POV –

She heard rather than saw the door close, keeping her eyes on the place where Cara had stood, one hand holding the thin sheet around her, the other running through the front of her hair as she replayed the last few minutes in her head.

She could still feel Cara's soft skin against the pads of her fingers, the smooth, waxen feel of the scars and her warmth, the feel of pulsing life and taut muscle under yielding, tanned flesh. She absentmindedly brought the hand to her face, running the thumb over her dry lips, her eyes staring fixedly at nothing, recalling Cara's smirk and her own smile that came unbidden to her mouth at the look of confusion and alarm in Cara's eyes. Any confidence she had previously felt was long gone as she stood woodenly in front of the window, her mind unable to settle on one thought. She forced herself to take a deep breath, trying to bring some order to the chaotic flood of conflicting emotions and thoughts thundering through her mind.

_ Dear spirits...  
_

Confusion finally won out. She had no idea why she had acted in such a way. How could she have been so weak? What could have possibly made her touch Cara in such a manner?

_'Something on your mind, Confessor?'  
_

She had expected Cara's touch to be effective and practical, tending to the wound quickly and efficiently before making a smart remark. She shivered as she remembered the ghosting trail of Cara's hand mapping its way across the sensitive skin of her back. The pain of her cut had paled in comparison to the other sensations Cara's far-too-gentle-touches had made her feel. Her eyelids felt heavy, but every time she closed them, she could see Cara's green eyes staring into her own, her full lips ever so slightly parted-

_**Kahlan**__. _She mentally berated herself, cutting off her train of thought abruptly.

_You've never thought this way about Richard..._ She ignored this sly comment spoken by a teasing voice that sounded a lot like Cara.

She had definitely thought of Richard fondly, imagined him holding her tightly, whispering that he loved her, tucking hair behind her ear. She thought of him as sweet and caring. Whilst Cara's gentle approach to cleaning her cut had betrayed her care, the suggestive comments and skilled hands raised unbidden thoughts that surely would have made even the Mord'Sith blush. She had never thought like _that_ about anyone before. The true base of her problems was not that she didn't think about Richard in such a way it was that she _was_ thinking that way about Cara. Her friend. The Mord'Sith.

She thought about the appellation for a while. Mistress Cara. She let her mind wander back to before; thinking about the relationship a Mord'Sith had with her sisters. Her touches must have seemed like that of a child compared to the _skill_ a Mord'Sith could exhibit. She felt her cheeks flush as she imagined Cara laughing in her face, telling her that she was used to a little more... _woman_ than Kahlan could ever hope to match. She felt an odd twinge of what felt like jealousy in the pit of her stomach.

She remembered coming up behind Cara, her eyes running along the thin white lines curving across golden skin. She remembered raising her hand and feeling Cara's muscles tense immediately. She must have been confused as to what Kahlan was doing, not feeling anything like what she had done to Kahlan: Cara was practised, she knew what she was doing, but Kahlan was woefully inexperienced. All she had were base instincts and her own desires.

Her mind was a conflicted mess of anger at her own weak resolve, a pang of guilt for her thoughts of Richard that were so quickly pushed aside and a monumental amount of uncertainty surrounding just what on _earth_ she was thinking.

* * *

_**White: So, how did we do? I think it went rather well, all things considered.  
Red: You mean considering all the scowling and disagreeing?  
White: And the biting. Don't forget the biting.  
Red: Well yeah that too. Hopefully the next chapter will be less... Painful.  
White: Yeeeah, 'cause that's really gonna happen. The day we achieve that will be the day the world implodes.  
Red: I suppose I can live with the pain until then, after all, I am Mord'Sith ;)  
White: Yeah, you pull that card most days. I think we're well-aware of that well-hidden fact ;)  
Red: This coming from the girl who grabs me by the neck in every fight ¬_¬  
White: ... *glares* **_


	2. Chapter Two

_**Disclaimer of a disclaiming nature: we own nothing, just our own **_**_plot line, unfortunately not Cara or Kahlan. _**

**Chapter 2**

If she really thought about it, the Confessor had been acting oddly for some time now. She scowled at her mind's reluctance to drop the subject while she waited at the bar for their food. At first they'd been enemies but that was expected of a Confessor and Mord'Sith, not to mention she had killed the woman's sister... She trailed off of that thought, feeling that odd twinge of guilt at upsetting the brunette to such a point that she'd gone into Con'Dar. A slight shudder ran through her at the memory and she pushed it away, her mind moving on to the first moment she'd felt an inexplicable pull toward the Mother Confessor. Her own execution. It was an odd time for it to happen but for a few minutes there was nothing but the woman stood before her, her hand clasped around her throat. She still remembered it vividly, the telltale signs of emotion burning tracks down her cheeks as the true realisation of what she had done crashed down upon her. At that moment she'd been ready to die, the only thing that mattered was the power pulsing through the hand around her neck, the woman in white whose eyes bore into her own, contemplating her judgement. She'd been resigned to her fate, waiting for the pain to start, almost curious: for a Mord'Sith, it was said that there was no more exquisite pain to be had than that of a Confessor's touch, the power of love released into a soul warped by hate. It never came. The hood was lowered and the hand dropped away. Cara had stood there, back straight, lips set in a resolved line, stifled by her grief while her executioner defended her. The Mother Confessor had spared her life; no other Mord'Sith would ever be able to make such a boast. From then their relations had been tense but their mutual duty to protect Richard had at least helped keep things bearable. Eventually, Cara came to respect the Confessor, although from a distance; she was a strong fighter and knew her duty. She'd have made an outstanding Mord'Sith. With a slight scowl, she recalled the time she accepted the Keeper's offer and had become a baneling. She did so without hesitation; without her, the Seeker, the Wizard and the Confessor would have been dead before the day had ended. When they learnt of her choice she had expected a different reaction; anger, disappointment, confusion... She never expected them to care like they did. Kahlan's hand on her shoulder and the look of sadness in her eyes was engraved in her mind. Genuine sadness. The Confessor had said something but everything had seemed distant and unimportant compared to the all-too gentle touch of the brunette. Her mind moved on and she thought of the time they had spent in Rothenberg, in the Margrave's palace. The Mord'Sith could stand through an entire day of torture without making a single sound but that infernal dress was something new altogether. She would never forget **that** incident. She remembered Kahlan's grin after the four had left the palace. Even the Wizard had smiled at her that day. Briefly. At that moment, she might even have been able to call the three of them allies without making a sour face at the word.

However, the biggest development, to date, had to have been in that damned tomb. She'd been so sure she was about to die that she'd decided to finally admit to Kahlan the bizarre attraction that had formed within her. Of course the Confessor made it very clear that she did not reciprocate. Something about that last thought didn't seem quite right; maybe Cara hadn't made herself clear enough. It had felt like she was being painfully obvious but maybe... With that idea burning in her mind, she forced herself to delve back into the memory, searching for any sign that the reaction was different to what she originally thought.

_"I don't want to die without you knowing...I consider you to be... my friend..." Her felt her tone betrayed more than her words allowed and for a long second Kahlan looked away, leaving Cara nervously awaiting a reply. Did the Confessor still hate her? Or was she just unsure how to answer?  
"I think of you as a friend too." The slight smile on the edges of the brunette's lips would usually be enough to bring a smile to her own face if it wasn't for the astounding pain that shot through her at those words. 'I think of you as a *__**friend* **__too.' That was all the Confessor would ever see her as._

She was pulled back from her memory by a less shaky but still rather flustered barmaid.

"Th-this was all we had left, I hope it's acceptable..." The woman placed a decent sized package on the bar in front of her and Cara gave a nod of approval, it looked to be around the amount the wizard ate every night so it was plenty for the two of them to share. With one last glance at the woman, she placed a few coins onto the bar and took the package, turning on her heel and heading back to the stairs, losing herself once more in her memory of the tomb. When she had come as close to admitting the truth as she would dare, Kahlan had smiled slightly and turned her head to look at the floor for a moment before answering. Why did Kahlan look away? The Confessor was supposedly perceptive when it came to things like that so surely she'd understood Cara's intent? Of course she was too 'caring' to reject her outright but [_'I think of you as a friend too.]'_ had made the answer clear all the same. Then again, if the Confessor felt nothing for her, why was she acting so... abnormal? A small smirk came over her face when she realised she'd started it while tending to Kahlan's wound. Cara had taken advantage of the moment to amuse herself but maybe she had gone a little too far. She often forgot how little contact of that nature the Confessor had actually experienced. Perhaps the brunette was simply having a lapse of self control due to her teasing. That had to be it. The Confessor was currently not of sound mind, much like the time she was split in half but this Kahlan had the capacity for reason... to a degree at least. Some time alone should have been enough to give her room to think and calm down but if that wasn't the case, she would try to correct her actions; something that would be painful for the both of them. Hopefully that would not be necessary; there are some types of pain even Mord'Sith are not trained to withstand.

Without casting a single glance to Kahlan she dropped the food onto the little table next to her.

"The woman said to let her know if we need anything else." With that she walked over to the window to glance through the curtain. She knew there would be nothing to see but she needed the distance from the brunette.

"Cara..." A small voice called her name and she spun around to face Kahlan. She must have gotten changed in Cara's absence; she now stood in cotton trousers and a simple white shirt that usually laced up at the neck; Kahlan had left the laces untied; she probably couldn't reach them without aggravating the wound. The neckline displayed a generous amount of snow white skin for Cara's gaze to get trapped in before being dragged, rather reluctantly, to her face.

"Yes, Mother Confessor?" She placed a hand lightly over the agiel still holstered at her hip, letting the pain ring up her arm, focusing her mind on it and not the woman before her. Kahlan seemed put out by the use of her full title but if there was one thing Cara was good at, it was not caring.

"Are you okay?" The brunette's voice was quiet but determined as Cara shifted to grip her agiel rather than just touch it, sending a heavier bolt of pain shooting through her nerves, the familiar feel aiding her struggle to relax.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" She arched an eyebrow with her trademark smirk, feigning amusement at the Confessor's question.

"Before... I-" She started to speak but Cara cut her off before any more damage could be done. To either of them.

"You bested me at my own game. That is all. I concede the victory. Well done. Now hurry up and eat, we should rest soon if we want to make good time to the outpost. D'Haran forests are not known for their well-used trails." She turned back to the window and gave the curtain another twitch, hoping the Confessor would drop it already and leave her alone. Of course, Kahlan being Kahlan, that would not happen so easily.

"I just wanted to say that... I..." She trailed off and Cara steeled her resolve. If she was going to end this before she did something she would regret, she would have to be cruel. She would not allow Kahlan to think too much upon the whole thing. As tempting as it was to seduce the Confessor it could mean two things, firstly her death, secondly, and more importantly, Richard would see it as betrayal. With an almost imperceptible shake of her head she pulled a smirk onto her face and screwed it in place, turning to the Confessor with a hand wrapped tightly around her agiel.

"Just forget about it, Mother Confessor. I already have." She took her hand from her agiel as she walked woodenly past the brunette, placing it instead on the woman's shoulder with a grin.

"You didn't think such a thing would bother me, did you?" She arched an eyebrow and let her smirk grow slightly at Kahlan's expressionless mask, a sure sign that she was hurt by her words but Cara couldn't go back on it now. Now she'd started, she wouldn't let herself cave in to the desire to take advantage of Kahlan's weakened mental state, pin her to the bed and render her unable to form coherent sentences for a week. Her hand moved back to grip her agiel as she cursed her own mind for coming up with such vivid images.

"I've already eaten, I'm going to sleep." With one final smirk she walked past her toward the bed, her palm felt as though it was burning where it had touched the Confessor but she sectioned it off as she removed her agiels and lay down with her back to the rest of the room.

Maybe it was the hurt look buried beneath that infernal emotionless mask of the Confessor but Cara's heart stung at her own words. Perhaps she had been a little too cruel to the brunette but it was the only way, wasn't it? Well, she could just give in to her temptation and satisfy the Confessor's curiosity but that would be the wrong choice. Wouldn't it? As a Mord'Sith she was supposed to serve the Lord Rahl. Richard had ordered her to keep Kahlan safe and if she died by confession she would be unable to complete that task, not to mention that she could not imagine Richard would be all too pleased if she were to profess 'feelings' for the brunette and take what he has been trying to gain for the entire time she had known him: Kahlan in bed... or on the floor, or against the wall, or in the forest, or- _Stop_. She felt the corners of her mouth turn down into a scowl despite her pretence of sleep.

_Fantasising helps nothing._

The rest of her mind nodded in agreement but for one tiny section near to the back. It still roared its disapproval at her decision but its roar may as well have been a whisper for all the heed she would pay it. With that decided she attempted to relax, something much easier said than done. If only the Confessor knew the power she held over her.

* * *

-Kahlan POV-

The Mord'Sith lay no further than a foot away but the echo of Cara's terse words kept Kahlan from breaching that distance. She sat on the bed with her arms wrapped tightly around her knees in silence; listening. She could hear the low drone of a man's voice filtering up through the floorboards, singing drunkenly; the sound of a cart rolling by outside the window, rattling and rolling across the rough ground; mostly, she listened to the noises coming from the other side of the bed. She could tell that the blonde was still awake by the rigidity of her limbs and the slightly fast, shallow breaths she was taking. Kahlan sighed and tugged at a loose thread on the hem of her loose fitting shirt; she had put it on just before Cara had come back in, placing the sheet back onto the bed. The last few minutes played through her mind over and over_. _

_'Forget about it, Confessor. I already have.'_

She didn't know what to feel: she was torn between hurt, anger and sadness. Cara's words had been harsh; the blonde still wasn't aware of how much words could affect a person.

_Or maybe she is all too aware._

What had hurt the most was having her own thoughts confirmed so bluntly; there was no way she could have made Cara feel anything like Cara had done to her. The Mord'Sith was far too experienced: she was like a fly trying to bother a lioness. She didn't know why this knowledge had shaken her so. She considered it might just be injured pride but the memory of Cara's hands on her, the way even the mere memory could make her tremble, made her quickly dismiss the idea that only her pride had been injured by Cara's words. The thought made her mouth dry out.

She was angry that Cara hadn't let her try to explain herself. She had cut her off with brisk words, trying not to meet her eyes. She called her by title, something she only did when upset or angry, but Kahlan couldn't think of a reason _Cara_ should be angry at _her_, if all she did was beat the blonde at 'her own game.' she bristled at that; is that all she was to the Mord'Sith; a game? A source of amusement? If Cara really cared, she would have listened. She should have sat quietly and let Kahlan explain her actions, not cut her off and hurt her feelings. Instead she had mocked her, made her feel like a child. With a sigh, Kahlan shook her head before resting it against her knees. It wouldn't have mattered. She couldn't explain something she herself didn't understand. Being a Confessor, she knew all about self-control. She learned from a young age how to subjugate her emotions, hiding them behind a mask of blank indifference and stoicism. She could strangle off the strongest of desires and keep herself calm and objective. It made for a lonely youth but it ultimately made her stronger. Travelling with the Seeker, she had found many times where her grip on her emotions was tested. She always managed to claw back her resolve and distance herself from the threat, quickly regaining her composure. She would take a deep breath, place a smile upon her face and apologise and that would be that. It had been almost an hour since her incident with Cara and she was still unsteady. Her heart beat seemed too fast; her skin seemed too warm; her mind couldn't settle. Her resolve hadn't just abated briefly: it had abandoned her, leaving her feeling unstable.

_Relax, Kahlan._

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes.

_It must be the wound. The pain must be affecting me more than I thought._

She gingerly pressed a finger to the bandage she had wrapped around it hurriedly. It wasn't as deep as she had feared but would leave a new, thin scar. She ran a finger across the cut, sucking air in through her teeth as the pain flared up a little.

She shouldn't have turned away from the baneling. She had shown mercy, she had hesitated and it could have got her killed. She remembered her sweeping blade connecting with the throat of her attacker and pressed her fingers to her mouth, closing her eyes briefly. The sound of movement beside her brought her out of the gory reminiscence. Cara shifted a little, bunching a thin pillow up beneath her head. She didn't turn around or acknowledge Kahlan in any way before settling down again, the room falling back into silence that rang in Kahlan's ears.

_'You didn't think such a thing would bother me, did you?'_

Cara's words had made her stop. She had hesitated for the second time that day and for the second time, she had been hurt. The only difference being that this time, the scars would be on the inside. She put on her Confessor's face. She wouldn't let that happen again. She would have this out now, get the pain dealt with now and then they would move on. They had to.

She stretched out a hand, letting it hover over the blonde's arm, giving serious thought to pulling her around to face her. Then what? Vent her emotions? Apologise profusely? _Kiss her?…_ The hand wavered a little, in sympathy with her inner strength as her mask of indifference slipped. Why must her thoughts insist on undermining her? The answer to that question was as elusive as the meaning of the warm flush that seemed to be setting her skin aflame. She focused her thoughts again on the hand floating just inches above the blonde's bicep. She hardened her resolve, straightening her face once again. She lowered her hand before she lost all of her confidence, squeezing the blonde's arm gently. She felt the Mord'Sith flinch under her hand; she had clearly believed the matter was over. The blonde lifted her head, glaring at Kahlan's slender fingers curled around the toned bicep. Kahlan didn't let go. Instead she squeezed again, a little firmer this time.

'We need to talk.' When the Mord'Sith didn't answer, she spoke again.

'Actually,_ I_ need to talk. You only have to listen.' Her tone was a little sharper than she had expected, but she didn't correct it.

Cara's eyes rose to meet Kahlan's before she began to sit up, shaking off her hand. When she had propped herself up against the pillows, she turned to Kahlan, remaining silent. Her impassive face gave no clue as to her emotions. The woman would have made a good Confessor.

Once again, Kahlan felt her resolve falter as she stared into depthless green eyes. She remembered the ache Cara's words had left in her chest and bolstered herself. She had to do this.

'Cara, about what happened earlier…' The Mord'Sith looked ready to interject and Kahlan shot her a glare but, Cara being Cara, she paid it no heed.

'There is no need to talk about it, Confessor.' Her tone was no longer amused, simply sharp.

'Then just _listen _for once.' She found herself glaring and for the first time Cara stilled, apparently getting the message.

'I just…'She had intended to say everything she had been thinking, to get it all off of her chest. She knew the only way she would ever understand her body's reaction to Cara would be if she told the truth; she had the feeling Cara would know how to help her but her tongue apparently had different plans.

'I wanted to apologise. I don't know why I… did what I did and I am sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.' She heard her mouth say the words and reason told her it was for the best but her heart lurched, desperately trying to recall the words.

'I guess it must be my injury. The pain must have made me forget myself temporarily.' Cara's face was unreadable as she swung her legs off of the bed, standing slowly. She strode over to the window, pulling back the curtain to look into the street. Still, she remained silent. Kahlan stood too, pulling nervously at the hem of her shirt as she stared at the back of Cara's head, wishing she knew what the blonde was thinking. She leant against a bedpost, her lips parted slightly as her mind worked frantically at finding more words, _any_ words.

'I hope I haven't hurt you in any way, and that we can move on from this. I would hate my moment of weakness to ruin our friendship.' She thought she saw the Mord'Sith tense at those words but the second she had thought it, the blonde relaxed. She didn't turn but she let go of the curtain, her hand falling to her side.

'We will not speak of it. Anything that happened tonight will not be mentioned again. I give you my word.' Her calm tone betrayed no emotion, making it hard for Kahlan to gauge any damage her words may have done. Not that they would have done any; the Mord'Sith was her friend. Nothing more.

She took a deep breath, running a hand through her thick hair.

'You would forgive me that easily?' Cara shrugged, twitching the curtain aside once more.

'Nothing to forgive. As I said, it was nothing to me.' Kahlan felt her stomach drop at that. Her mind went blank, all thoughts of self-preservation disappearing as her heart wrenched at the hurt of those words. Her mind and her heart fought a furious battle, a battle for dominance of her tongue. The winner would dictate how the evening would end; she wasn't sure she liked either prospect much.

'I wish you knew how much it hurts to hear you say that.' She regretted the whispered words almost as soon as they had escaped her lips. Cara spun on her heel, turning to face her, a subtle frown playing over her graceful features, the edges of her mouth turning down ever so slightly. She took a step towards Kahlan, sweeping a strand of blonde hair out of the eyes that seemed to burn into Kahlan's very soul. Once again, she felt her resolve weaken under the intense gaze. The Mord'Sith took another step closer, a shaft of moonlight falling over her golden skin, shining into eyes the colour of emerald. Fearing what she might do if Cara came much closer, Kahlan turned her back, closing her eyes tightly. She clenched her hands into fists and pressed them against her lower abdomen, trying to regain control of her thundering heart.

'Mother Confessor…?' Cara's voice was unusually soft, coming from right behind her. She could feel gentle heat radiating from the blonde's body and her heart seemed to leap right into her mouth. A strong hand closed around her wrist, holding gently. The voice came again.

'Kahlan.' Her resolve snapped for the second time that night and she felt a tear roll down her cheek. Her mind screamed at her, ordering her to stop but she could no longer control her own body. It felt as if she were leagues away, watching someone else who looked a lot like her. That someone else turned slowly, blue eyes locking onto the green ones staring intently at her. That someone else took a step closer, and another, until she was close enough to feel warm breath on her skin. That someone else raised a hesitant hand, gently cupping the blonde's jaw. That someone else leant forward, brushing parted lips against a full, soft mouth. The next thing she knew, her back hit the wall. She could still feel the warm breath against her face but it was far more rapid and hitched. One hand pressed her shoulder against the wall, the other was clasped around her throat. Green filled with more emotion than she'd ever seen bore into blue, holding them in an iron gaze. Kahlan felt a shiver pass down her spine, a mix of fear and… something else.

They stood like that for what seemed like hours, staring at each other, sharing warm breath, every muscles in their bodies tensed. Without warning the lips were upon hers once more, still soft but with more force behind them, crushing against her own for the briefest of moments before Cara let go of her and darted back as though burned, taking one last glance into blue eyes before bolting from the room. Kahlan felt her legs give way and she slid down to wall, coming to rest on the floor, a slight tremble in her hands as her mind attempted to catch up to the last few minutes.

* * *

-Cara's POV-

A loud grunt of anger escaped her as her fist connected with the tree, the light tickle of blood running down her fingers reminding her all too late that she was not wearing any of her leather, including gloves. With a heavy sigh she let her head make contact with the wood and her eyes dropped shut. How could she have let that happen? How did the Confessor have the power to render her unable to move with such simple actions? Why couldn't she have just cleaned the wound and left her alone? Too many questions raced through her head as she raised her uninjured hand to touch her lips. She could still feel the Confessor's against them, as painful as it was to think of it. She didn't even want to think about what any of this could mean, Kahlan had clearly stated that it was just a lapse of control but she was almost certain she had heard something else.

_I wish you knew how much it hurts to hear you say that. _

The words rang through her like the devotion bell and refused to fade. Devotion. How interesting that she should think of that after betraying Lord Rahl. A humourless laugh escaped her lips but by the time it reached her ears it sounded almost manic. Maybe she really had just lost her mind. Was that what the Confessor was aiming for? She shook her head, Kahlan wasn't the type to carelessly play with others and drive them past the brink of madness. _Or was she?_ Considering the evidence it seemed highly plausible but her knowledge of Kahlan's personality told her she wouldn't do such a thing. At least not intentionally. A low growl emerged from her throat at that thought. Of course, the Mother Confessor never did anything _intentionally._ The woman had the power to push her head first into insanity, drive her to the depths of pain or drag her to the highest heights of joy without even noticing what she was doing, without planning, without thought, without any conscious _effort_. Cursed Confessor: turning her into nothing but a slave without even the excuse of confession. If that was the case, would she die now? The thought resonated through her mind but a stern voice stopped it.

_This is created of my own warped heart. It can't kill me._

_Want to bet?_

With a small sigh she turned to look at the inn, ensuring the building was undisturbed during her thoughts and that the Confessor was still safe. Great, she was talking to her own head now. Keeper curse that infernal Confessor.

She remained outside for most of the night, waiting until the first tint of a lighter blue was edging the horizon, a tell-tale sign that the sun was coming soon. Carefully, she opened the door to their room but found no woman on the bed. It didn't take too long to find her, she was sleeping against the very same wall she herself had shoved her against only hours ago. The urge to turn around and smack her head against the door pulled against her but instead she crossed the room, reattaching her agiels to her waist and sighing in the comfort of the agony shooting up her arm. _This_ was the kind of pain she liked. Her wandering eyes found the ruined corset on the floor beside their bags and she walked over to pick it up before heading to the door. If they were to leave the memories of last night behind they would need to get out of this room and for that the brunette may require clothing. On her way to the door, she risked on more glance at the sleeping woman muttering restlessly. She wouldn't have gotten up from that spot just to sit back down when there was a perfectly good bed across the room; she'd fallen asleep there. Involuntarily if the way she was slumped was anything to go on.

A small pang of guilt flicked through her and she let out a small sigh, placing the corset on the table before moving to the bed and grabbing the blanket. Kahlan hadn't done any of this on purpose, instinct was a difficult thing to overcome and she hadn't helped much, relying on the Confessor's own control was bound to end badly in this type of situation. After all, the only reason the woman hadn't bedded Richard was the difficulties involving confession and hunting for the stone of tears and she was almost certain that she had higher appeal than a woods guide from Westland, to say the least.

As gently as she could muster, she dropped the blanket over the woman on the floor, covering all but her head before grabbing the corset and leaving. She was sure she could 'persuade' a dressmaker to open early for her and have it fixed before the woman awoke. Today would be a new day. The only things serving as a reminder would be the inevitable scar that would stay just above Kahlan's waist and the scars that would be long lost among many others on her hand. This would be the end.

* * *

_**Red: Well that went well...  
White: Surprisingly, yes.  
Red: Yep, you made me write 'feelings' stuff XD  
White: Feelings are fun. You're just strange ;)  
Red: I'm not going to mention which bit you're awkward writing ;)  
White: What can I say? I'm a gentle-woman. A concept which must seem incredibly unusual to a harlot such as yourself ;D  
Red: :O I resent being called a harlot, I'm just too sexy for you to understand.  
White: Riiiight. That's the word. Not... dysfunctional? Disturbed? Easy? ;)  
Red: I'm happy with sexy, thanks ;)  
White: ...whatever makes you happy, Red. Whatever makes you happy.  
Red: -scowls-**_


	3. Chapter Three

_**Disclaimer disclaimer disclaimer: despite a great deal of wishing we still do not own Cara, Kahlan or anything to do with Legend of the seeker.**_

* * *

_**Chapter 3**_

**Kahlan's POV:**

Sunlight filtered in through her eyelids, a golden haze in the darkness of her mind, trying to pull her back towards consciousness. She resisted, not ready to leave the security of the arms that were wrapped tightly around her. She squeezed her eyes closed, clinging desperately to the warmth and comfort, a small smile pulling at the edges of her lips as she felt a gentle kiss pressed against the nape of her neck. Pushing back against the muscled body behind her, her head came to rest on a strong shoulder. The lips moved, pressing against her cheek, the ghost of warm breath making her shiver. They pressed against her ear, whispering words that made her grin lazily. She couldn't quite make them out but that seemed unimportant; the meaning behind them was more than clear. A hand reached up, playing with a strand of her long, dark hair, rolling it between thin fingers, before dropping it to ghost along her jawline.

She moaned, opening her eyes slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of the person she lay against. All she could make out against the blaze of light was a contented smile and smooth, golden skin.

The light flared once more, bleaching her vision white and she groaned out loud. The arms that were so tightly wrapped around her loosened their grip and she felt the warmth dissipate. She tried desperately to anchor herself, not yet ready to face the world. A soft voice spoke her name, a voice that filled her with longing. She growled at the light, trying to defy her body's attempts to wake her. It was a fierce battle that seemed to rage for hours, or maybe only seconds; time was inconsequential.

The voice came again, quiet and calm. She stopped struggling and relaxed her muscles at the brush of a ethereal hand along her jaw, the soft press of lips against her own the last thing she remembered before the white light won out and she felt herself falling.

Her eyes opened suddenly, blinking in the blinding light that streamed down through the parted curtains. Her breath came rapidly, her body still tingling from her phantom freefall. There was nobody behind her; only the whitewashed wall of the inn that she had fallen asleep against. She reached a hand up to brush her long hair out of her face, pressing the fingers against her eyes, trying to gather her thoughts. The soft haze of the dream had faded almost instantly under the harsh glare of the morning sun. She knew better than to try to remember exactly what she had been dreaming of; forcing the issue only made the thoughts more illusive, which would only serve to stress her. Instead, she put the thoughts out of her mind, kneading her thigh muscles, trying to rid herself of the ache that had set deep into her body; she had slept with her back pressed up against the wall, her arms wrapped around her knees without moving so much as an inch and it seemed her body was determined to punish her.

She closed her eyes and rolled her neck, letting her mind drift to the day ahead. After she was dressed and they had eaten, she and Cara would have to get moving; it was a long trip into D'Hara, one she was not looking forward to.

The events of last night hung in the air above her head like a thick layer of smoke, once again threatening to haze her vision.

It seemed the perfect metaphor for the night before: a hazed mind, everything unclear and shrouded in emotions she wasn't used to feeling. One of her teachers, in Aydindril, had once told her that sometimes distracting the immediate attention can leave the body to do as it would. He had said that, in some situations, a person's instincts were the best guide they could ask for; your heart knows what it wants and, given free reign, will set about getting it.

If that were the case, she wondered absently, then what her instincts were trying to tell her?

She shook her head. Trying to grasp the reasons behind her actions was proving as difficult as trying to recall a dream. Just when she felt she was on the verge of understanding, her mind diverted and all progress was lost. It was infuriating.

The 'instinct' had come from nowhere: she had previously thought of the blonde as a danger, then an ally and, more recently, a friend. If pressed, she might even say that she thought of Cara as a sister, though saying that to the Mord'Sith would no doubt just make her uncomfortable, given past events. When Cara had first joined their quest, Kahlan had been sceptical to say the least. The idea of having a torturer-turned-rebel following them had her sleeping with a knife under her pillow. Other revelations had her ready to plunge the knife into the Mord'Sith. She had believed the woman to be beyond help or even mercy, but the blonde had proven her wrong. Kahlan often noticed small, seemingly timorous gestures Cara would make; holding back a branch so that Kahlan could pass through the woods easier, a guiding hand on her bicep, giving away the last of her water; small gestures from anyone else, but Kahlan knew that a lot of thought went into such small acts of kindness. A perfect example was the blanket her fingers now played with, no doubt thrown over her sleeping form. It hadn't been there when she had fallen asleep and she knew that it was Cara who had put it there; a simple gesture with significant connotations.

She had worked her way into Kahlan's affections, slowly and quietly, so much so that even Kahlan was surprised by it. Now she found herself fiercely protective of Cara, as were Zedd and Richard.

Cara had been thrown headfirst into the depths of madness as a child at the hands of those who only wished her pain and suffering in the guise of family and the fact that Kahlan had a hand in helping her claw her way back was an indescribable feeling. To see the blonde smile, to hear her laugh brought a smile to Kahlan's face, knowing that even someone as hurt and abused as Cara could once again live a happy life. It was a miracle that she _could _smile, that she _could_ laugh, that she _could _trust. It showed such strength of character that even abject misery and torture could not destroy it: an unwavering innocence and compassionate heart that had persevered through the chaos and terror of insanity.

That Cara had come to laugh again just showed that a person could only be themselves, no matter what. No more and _certainly_ no less.

As she shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable on the rough wooden floor, her elbow brushed the bandage wrapped around her torso, reminding her of the injury with a flash of searing hurt. She gingerly probed the edges of the cut, baring her teeth at the hot pain that made the muscles in her stomach and legs twitch. Cara's gentle handiwork had done its job; it wasn't infected, but it would take a while to heal; the blade had passed deeply through muscle and that kind of injury needed careful tending. They would have to travel a little slower than intended, in order to keep her from undoing any of the healing. It would also be a good idea to stay in her looser-fitting travelling clothes. Just the idea of the stiff leather of her corset made her wince.

Thinking of her corset made her remember; it would need repairing. The knife had gone through the tough material like butter and such repairs would take a great deal of skill; she remembered the head seamstress at Aydindril clicking her tongue in annoyance as Kahlan presented her with the corset after she had split the leather for the fifth time in a week. She had protested that it was an impractical item of clothing to wear, along with her standard black Confessor's dress, especially during a fight. She smiled as she remembered the woman's eyes bulge and her cheeks colour in horror at the idea of a Confessor… _fighting!_ It was simply unheard of! If only the woman could see her now.

She cast a glance at the floor around her, looking for the item of clothing but was unable to find it. With a slight frown, she threw the blanket off of her legs and put a hand to the wall to balance her. She stood and stretched her muscles, listening to the oddly satisfying click of her joints. A yawn rumbled up in her throat and she raised one hand to her mouth, stretching the other up into the air, rolling her shoulders. Stepping carefully across the rough wooden floor, she made her way to the bed, where the rest of their stuff had been thrown. She picked up a piece of dried meat from the half-wrapped food bundle, holding it between her teeth as she looked underneath the other things lying on top of the mattress, shifting things around as she looked for her corset.

She didn't hear the door open or the soft footsteps across the wooden planks. When a brown paper package hit the bed, she leapt backwards in surprise. Looking up, she met amused green eyes for an instant before the Mord'Sith circled around her and stalked off to the window.

'Easy, Confessor.' Kahlan pressed a hand over her racing heart, glaring at the back of Cara's head. When the blonde didn't turn back around, Kahlan dropped her hand and began pulling at the string of the package thrown onto the blankets. The knots were tight; she sat down and pulled it onto her lap, throwing frequent glances to the woman standing at the window. She was so intent on the back of the blonde's head that her hand slipped and she dug her thumbnail painfully into her skin. Cursing, she reached down to the floor, groping around for something to use to remove the infernal string. With a lopsided grin, she straightened up, clutching the hilt of one of her daggers. Slipping the blade under the tightly tied string, she pulled it up, savouring the feel of the parting cord.

'Did the big bad string put up much of a fight, oh mighty Confessor?' Cara's childish, mocking voice floated over, but when Kahlan looked up her attention was once again focused on the street. With a silent sigh and a roll of her eyes, Kahlan dropped the dagger and ripped through the paper, uncovering buttery-soft, smooth greenish-brown leather and familiar delicate metal edging. With a smile, she pulled it free of the paper and held it up, examining the side that had been damaged. There was barely a scratch. Running a finger over it, she found it smooth to the touch, no rough edge. It was brilliant tailoring, repairing that kind of damage with little evidence left behind. She slipped a hand inside, feeling the fine thread and incredibly close stitching.

'This must have cost a fortune. It's amazing!'

Cara shrugged, finally turning around. Her hands rested on the window sill and her hips were canted to the side slightly; with the bright sunlight shining on her golden hair and perfect skin, she looked like nothing more than a good spirit come to life. Cara being Cara, this image didn't hold; her proud smirk completely shattered the illusion, instantly raising suspicions in Kahlan's mind.

'Cara.' She spoke her name with a rising inflection of warning. 'What have you done?' The blonde's smirk grew and she tilted her head, looking up at the ceiling, raising her open hands in a way she obviously believed to look innocent. Kahlan wasn't sure Cara was capable of innocence. The woman's devilish demeanour, it seemed, could not be repressed, no matter how hard she might try. Kahlan levelled a reproaching look at the blonde, which only made Cara smirk even more. Stepping towards the bed, she pulled a small, ripe plum from the package of food still lying on top of the sheets. She stalked back around and stopped in front of Kahlan, bending forward slightly, a small, self-satisfied smile playing over her lips.

'What does it matter? It's been repaired and no-one is dead; that's enough of an improvement, don't you think?' She opened her mouth to protest and blinked in shock as Cara pushed the plum against Kahlan's lips, the soft flesh of it grazing her teeth. Blue eyes wide, she replaced Cara's hand with her own, leaning away from the blonde's intense gaze. She heard a faint laugh and felt the ghost of it against her cheek before the blonde straightened up again and set about throwing things into their open packs, her golden hair making the light shining through it dull by comparison. She was facing away from Kahlan, which allowed the brunette a moment to stare, bemused, the plum still held between her teeth.

Part of her mind was wondering what exactly the Mord'Sith had done to the poor tailor; she contemplated tracking him down to make sure he was paid properly, or to at least make sure he was _alive._

These thoughts were being almost completely drowned out by the deafening rush of blood in her ears. Sweet juice flooded her mouth as she bit into the plum, trying her best to school her nonplussed expression and the deep red that undoubtedly mantled her cheeks. She pushed herself back into the centre of the bed and crossed her feet under her, her teeth scraping at the flesh covering the fruit's stone.

A rivulet of juice dripped down her chin, splashing down between her collarbones. Cursing quietly, she used the rough sleeve of her shirt to wipe it away before finishing off the plum and standing up. She turned around to see Cara frozen in place, holding Kahlan's green travelling dress, her expression oddly unguarded and glazed over. Raising an eyebrow, Kahlan met the Mord'Sith's glassy stare; whatever it was that had been occupying her thoughts was dislodged with a small shake of her head and she dropped the dress into Kahlan's pack.

'Hurry up and get ready; I want to be out of this spirits-forsaken place as soon as possible.' Cara said in a gruff voice, continuing her chore with a small frown in place of her customary smirk.

**Cara's POV:**

Silence reigned as they moved further and further from that cursed village. As pleasant as it was to be without the Confessor's never ending attempts at 'small talk' she found it slightly disturbing. A quick glance at the brunette's back showed her the woman was still there, just choosing not to speak so she returned her gaze to the floor. The morning had been as tense as the night before, though once again her own light taunting had been the cause. She really needed to be more careful about amusing herself when it came to Kahlan: it seemed the woman had an innate ability to turn it back on her without even noticing. By the spirits, if she had the ability to be this tempting while oblivious, Creator only knew what she would be like while putting conscious effort behind it. Her thoughts strayed back to earlier this morning where she had silenced the brunette with a plum that very quickly became a weapon against her. Though it did seem to have the desired effect upon the woman herself, Cara had not expected the backfire. She had found herself unable to look away as that tiny bead of sweet juice rolled across the Confessors chin and down onto her neck, unable to block out thoughts of crossing the small space between them and closing her mouth over the small drop, following its trail back up until she met parted lips and-

Stop.

She gave her head a furious jerk and forced herself to concentrate on her surroundings, the sounds coming from the woods, the Confessor's footsteps behind her... Wait. Behind her? She heard Kahlan stop and paused, turning on her heel to face the woman.  
"Confessor?" Her confusion quickly faded as the woman brought her hand up to check her injury and Cara rolled her eyes. They had hardly walked at all and she was already stopping? This was going to be a long journey.  
Several stops later her patience was wearing thin, Kahlan was practically stopping every few steps to wince in pain or check her bandages. After what felt like the fiftieth stop she finally gave loud sigh.  
"You know if you keep stopping every few steps it'll be healed before we reach Richard and he won't be able to kiss it better for you." She let her frustration convert into a smirk as she turned to look at the woman; her face was blank as Cara spoke but Cara's smirk wilted as she was met with a glare that would frighten a Shadrin. After only a second's pause Kahlan all but ran past her, taking the lead up the path and leaving her to blink in confusion before walking quickly after her. She had no idea what just happened but apparently the Confessor was in no mood for a joke today. After almost jogging for a couple of seconds she caught up enough to slow to a fast walk and soon enough Kahlan slowed back to a normal pace but did not stop again, whether due to her taunting or anger Cara had no idea but she had a feeling she wasn't going to find out. Why was she so angry anyway? She'd only made a small joke about her slow pace; it was no more than she usually did. With confusion still heavy in her mind she followed the Confessor up the trail, they would be at the top of a hill soon that would help them to map out their route and possibly find them a good spot to camp for the night.  
They weren't far from the border. If they kept up this pace they could reach it by the time night fell. A good thing since, if she was correct, the rain clouds should reach them just before the sun set. With a slight scowl she ran her gaze over the area, trying to find somewhere sheltered for them to spend the night; even if she'd stopped complaining about her injury, she doubted the Confessor would be happy with sleeping in the rain and, if she was honest, she wasn't overly fond of it either. A small smile curved one side of her mouth as she spotted what she was looking for: a wayward pine. The Seeker had often led them to one to spend the night, they made great overnight shelters. She turned to the Confessor and pointed toward the tree in the distance.  
"If we're fast we should reach that pine before nightfall." She kept her tone even but Kahlan simply nodded, already taking off down the hill at a fast pace before Cara had even put her pack back on her shoulders.

What was wrong with the woman today? Surely, of the two of them, she had more reason to be upset than the Confessor. Right? Unless she was still upset about the corset thing? She _had_ paid for it of course; regrettably she found herself paying for things, rather than threatening people, too much these days; a habit she didn't seem able to get out of.

Kahlan didn't stop the rest of the time they were walking, a little worrying given her injury but Cara couldn't bring herself to broach the icy barrier that had formed around the Confessor. With a small frown she glanced at the brunette. Normally it would be a blessing to have her shut up for a few hours but, remembering the cold stare directed her way, she was uneasy and, though she was loathe to admit it, worried for the brunette.

Alongside her thoughts of the Confessor, Cara kept an eye on the weather. Clouds had formed thickly overhead already, covering the waning sun and causing slight concern that they might not reach the pine before it rained. Thinking ahead, Cara started to collect up random branches from the ground. If the rain started before they got there, they wouldn't find dry firewood and they didn't have the means to bring wet wood to flame.  
It turned out she'd been right to worry; by the time they reached the pine, the rain had started, very quickly turning from a light shower to something much more uncomfortable. It didn't look as though there would be a full storm tonight but the sky did seem to be threatening one. Kahlan parted the thick layer of pine boughs and walked straight inside, not holding the branches aside for Cara as she usually did.  
"I'll get a fire started." She was mostly muttering to herself as she dropped the firewood beside a small pit often found in the middle of a wayward pine. Of course she received nothing more than a blank expression from the Confessor, so she stayed silent.

It was actually starting to get a little annoying: why was the damn woman so angry? She'd been perfectly 'nice' with her this morning, having her corset repaired, covering her with a blanket. As far as she could tell Kahlan had no right to be anything but apologetic. After all, she'd created the awkward situation last night... She stopped herself there and gave her mind a small reprimand: was that what she called not thinking about it? Her attention was caught as the fire finally started to build and provided a distraction for the moment.  
They lay out bedrolls on opposite sides of the fire, a strange occurrence since they often lay close, for defensive purposes of course, but Kahlan seemed determined to put space between them. Eventually Cara decided she would make one last attempt to lighten the mood and then that was it; the Confessor could stew in her anger forever for all she cared.  
"How is your injury now? Still enough there for Lord Rahl to fret over?" She arched an eyebrow with a smirk, expecting Kahlan's usual reproachful but amused expression. Instead she was met with a glare so cold it made all of the others seem like loving smiles. She carried on, trying to repair the damage her harmless remark had apparently caused. 'Not that it will stop him; he seems unable to resist coddling all the injured baby animals in the Midlands.'

Apparently, it didn't work. The Confessor shot to her feet.

"'_Injured baby animals'? _Is that what I am now? A baby, not able to fend for myself, so I must have Richard to fight my battles and kiss away my every little scratch?" The Confessor's sharp tone surprised her and her smirk wilted. She hadn't meant it like that.  
"Maybe you've forgotten, Cara, but I am the Mother Confessor, ruler of all the Midlands. I have lead battle-hardened men into war and fought alongside them. I was fighting before Richard was even out of Westland! I may not be able to wield an agiel but I am strong enough to deal with such a minor injury. Or do you think me too weak?" The last sentence was laced with venom more deadly than that of any snake or spider Cara could think of; Kahlan's sudden rage left her speechless and, with one last glare that seemed to burn brighter than the firelight, the Confessor turned on her heel and strode out into the rain, leaving Cara in stunned silence.

What had she done **this** time? She was well aware of Kahlan's strength; she was a fierce leader and a powerful ally. She wouldn't fight by the woman's side if she didn't think so. Perhaps she had taken her jokes about Richard in the wrong way...?

Confusion swirled into the pit of her stomach as she dropped down beside the fire, facing the way the Confessor had left, her eyes searching the darkness, trying to think of what she had done. The sound of distant thunder on the horizon mixed with the sound of heavy rainfall.

She would have to return soon. The rain was cold.

**Kahlan's POV:**

The rain struck her skin hard; the impact created a staccato beat to accompany the sound of her blood pounding in her ears and the violent pulse of her heartbeat, creating a symphony of rage and confusion that flooded through her body as she tread the same five feet of mire. The mud sucked at her boots as she paced, splashing up her legs. She imagined the mud must be cold; her legs were already too numb for her to tell. Her long hair was plastered to her face and neck, lying uncomfortably against her chilled skin.

She knew that, with her injury, being out in the ice-cold rain was a death sentence hanging tenuously over her head; she needed warmth and rest else she risked falling ill. But returning now would make the blonde right about her weakness.

The voice of reason within her was being drowned out by the storm of her fury and it showed no sign of passing.

Instead of trying to calm down, she let the fire burn. She let it consume her, willing it to take her doubts and fears and passions, leaving her bereft of anything but its anger. The part of her that questioned _why_ she was so angry was pushed to the back of her mind as she let herself bask in the simplicity of her ire; it was refreshing to only feel one thing, to only have to focus on one thing, instead of dealing with the constant war of emotion; joy, sorrow, fear, confusion; all vying for her attention, tipping her this way and that, like some absurd balancing act. The anger seemed to burn all of it away in a flash of fire, leaving her, for the first time in many days, feeling whole.

Time passed incrementally as she paced the infirm ground, raging at everything and nothing. Cara, Richard, herself, the rain, the mud, the cold, her injury, her hesitation… Her mind was an endless stream of thoughts, ranging from the petty to the earth-shattering, backwards and forwards through the mire of her mind like her feet through the mud, every thought tainted by wrath.

She was the Mother Confessor of the Midlands, the most powerful woman in the entire world. Kings bowed and scraped at her feet. She had reduced grown men and women to tears of terror with a mere glance. With a touch of her hand, she turned the most dangerous of criminals into devoted attendants, carrying out her every desire.

She was above caring what other people thought; she was used to fear, resentment and even anger; she dismissed the reactions one and all, a lifetime of such treatment leaving her above such things.

She was strong, resolute and untouchable.

So how had that… that _harlot_ managed to get under her skin with such simple words?!

She lifted her head and let the rain strike her face, tears of frustration burning down her cheeks. The rain seemed to seep into her very bones and she could feel it dousing the flames of hurt, allowing reason to claw its way back into her.

_Yes. The Mother Confessor is so strong that she stands here, weeping in the rain over the meaningless jokes of a damaged woman. Behold, such strength!_

Letting out a humourless laugh, Kahlan ran her hands through her sodden hair, eyes closed to the overcast sky. With her anger fading, sadness threatened to overwhelm her. Her travelling clothes were heavy with water, weighing her down, making her feel like sinking to the floor and never rising again. Instead, she locked her knees and took deep breaths of the icy night air as she tried her hardest to bring back the rapture of her pure rage.

_You can't run from this forever. _The voice in her head persisted, causing her to growl at the sky, drops of salted rain wetting her dry tongue. _I can try!_ She thought in response. She shook her head at the ridiculousness of arguing with a product of her imagination.

She thought back to Cara's words, running them through her head, trying to recreate her reaction. It wasn't working. She revised each word, her mind assessing each one, recalling Cara's tone of voice and facial expression. Her smirk and raised eyebrow clearly indicated that she wasn't being serious; if Cara meant her words to cut, her expression would be as sharp as the words. She had meant the words as a joke and when Kahlan exploded, Cara's face fell and she looked as if she wished to recall the words but didn't know how. Neither of them had expected the outburst and neither were able to dam it after it had begun. Cara was probably as hurt as Kahlan felt, but with more reason to be so.

The fresh wave of reason was colder and more refreshing than the glacial rain that threatened to slough the remaining heat from her bones. She stopped pacing, her bottom lip between her teeth as she thought.

_My anger never sticks on her. I always talk myself out of it and end up blaming myself. For once, I'd like her to actually be in the wrong! Just once; for my sanity, at least. _She sighed and leant against a tree trunk, trying to find a little reprieve from the storm.

Trying to figure out why she reacted like she did was proving difficult. The entire day, she had been quiet and contemplative, engaged in her own conflicted thoughts; every time Cara spoke, she felt anger rise like bile in her throat; the blonde was likely perplexed by Kahlan's hostility. Swinging wildly from unbridled aggression to introverted self-doubt had made for a strange day and had left her utterly exhausted.

All she could think of was the night before; the events they hadn't properly discussed. They kept playing over and over in her mind; their proximity, that rare unguarded look in Cara's eyes, the touch of soft lips against her own. Her mind stretched the last memory, detailing every little thought that had run through her head at the time and reminding her of every single place their bodies had touched had _burned. _The blonde had dismissed the incident as nothing, which part of Kahlan's subconscious appreciated. The other part of her, however, found this deeply distressing and seemed content to stress over the matter unendingly.

As much as she tried to convince herself that it was a product of tiredness, delusion and base instinct, her mind's reluctance to move on made her think that the situation wasn't as simple as she might like.

Instead of cutting her thoughts off, she urged them on, losing herself in the influx of emotion that filled her as she let herself remember.

The odd swirling feeling in her lower abdomen and the sound of the blood rushing in her ears. She had felt that before. In her mind's eye, she conjured the memory of kissing Richard for the first time, his strong, calloused hands cradling her head reverently, his lips strong and surprisingly soft; that was the first time she could recall that reaction to another. Her first kiss; it had been soft and sweet; nothing like her altercation with the Mord'Sith.

Though her lips were also soft, they were firmer and more insistent and much, much warmer. The hand on her throat and the wall against her back leant aggression to the act, but the kiss itself was tender and full of underlying, tightly leashed tension. Not only her stomach had swirled, but her mind had too.

It had been different. It had been stronger.

_No. It couldn't be. I __**love**__ Richard. Cara is my friend. It can't be…_

Maybe it was just the heat of the moment, amplified by her inexperience; it could also be that the kiss felt different because it _was _different. Richard was never as rough with her; he held her gently; he didn't pin her up against walls. It could also be that she had never kissed another woman before; of course it would feel different.

_But should it have felt better…?_

Maybe it hadn't? Maybe she was just over-glorifying the moment. It had shocked her and made a deep impression in her mind; it was completely possible she was affording it more significance than it rightfully deserved.

There was only one way to know.

She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat.

* * *

_**Red: Well... That took a while didn't it White?  
White: It took exactly as long as it was meant to!  
Red: Mhhmmm... And the fact you get distracted by every shiny object to fly past you didn't have any effect on it at all.  
White: By shiny things flying past me, do you mean all the things you threw at me to make me work?  
Red: Well I felt bad for Kahlan and Cara, we left them so confused!  
White: Oh, they're strong; they'll get over it. It's the readers I'm worried about. I don't think I can handle **__more__** things thrown at me!  
Red: We'll just have to write the next one faster. I may have to keep you in a box or something :3  
White: ...can I keep my laptop? And food. Will there be food?  
Red: Only if you write. for every two hundred words you get a cheeseburger.  
White: ... Deal.**_


End file.
